


fiending for me lately

by serendipitee



Category: GOT7
Genre: Felching, Hybrids, In Rut, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/pseuds/serendipitee
Summary: Jackson has a warning.[Yugyeom groans. "I didn’t believe him.”Mark smiles, pretty pink lips and tiger’s maw of sharp teeth. “Do you believe him now?”]
Relationships: Kim Yugyeom/Mark Tuan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 127
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2019/20





	fiending for me lately

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** this fic borrows heavily from commonly-used A/B/O terminology without technically being A/B/O fic. there is no mpreg, but if people leaking slick squicks you out you may want to avoid this one!
> 
> me: i wanna write hybrid fic but i want to do it just for the fucking. also i only want to do the bare minimum of research  
> this fic: is born
> 
> title from big ole freak by megan thee stallion; [_feenin for me lately, going brazy brazy, i got what you need i'mma give you what you craving_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4e_aRCsTh2k)

Jackson corners Yugyeom about a week before he’s due for his yearly rut.

“Dude,” he says frankly, ears perked and serious on his head, tail only swaying slightly instead of its usual excited wag. He’s serious. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Yugyeom is a little insulted at the insinuation. He’s going into rut, and for the first time in a while, he’s actually in a relationship while it’s happening — with Mark, his eldest hyung, one of the people he trusts most in the world. “Hyung, I think I _kind of_ get it.” They’ve been together in as official a capacity as any idol can be for months. That is, it’s woven into the complex tapestry of secrets the JYP kids keep in their little family huddle. And before that — they were fucking even before that, stolen moments behind venue curtains, in hotel rooms on tour; drowsy grinding on the couches in their apartments, sucking each other off to wave away stage fright before a show taping.

He knows Mark’s body, has scented and mouthed along every inch of skin; he knows what gets him off, how touching the downy soft insides of his ears can make his eyes roll in pleasure and that closing a hand around his short, fluffy tail can subdue him even when he’s at high velocity, when he’s too energetic.

So the condescending eyebrow Jackson is wriggling at him is more than annoying. But Jackson ignores his ire. “Just saying, Gyeom-ah. You might want to invest in some IcyHot? Definitely Gatorade and ibuprofen. You’re gonna need it with him.”

Yugyeom decides to ignore it all, irritation and pride overwhelming his instinct to listen.

That was the wrong choice.

This isn’t immediately clear. It takes a little while for Yugyeom to realize that he is, in fact, in way over his head. Mark scenting him, sweet and cuddly and hungry for body heat the day before his rut, doesn’t do it. That day, Yugyeom is too content with the squirming, needy boy on top of him, too distracted by the growing heat, the clawing desire in his gut to worry about anything else. He doesn’t mind Mark’s frisky hands or the way he snuffles all the way into his armpit, the incessant tapping of his foot finally coming to a halt as Yugyeom squirms away from the ticklish feeling.

But then the rut starts, pulling him out of a feverish, dreamless sleep and slamming into wakefulness, arousal thrumming through him so hard it’s painful, cock pulsing between his thighs. It feels different than his other ruts have started, though — his dick is already warm and soaking wet around the head. “F—fuck.”

Bleary, he looks down. There’s a human-sized lump shifting under the sheets, and suddenly it makes sense. “Hyung?” 

He feels a giggle around the crown of his cock. Without warning or pretense, Mark’s mouth opens up, rolls down the rest of his shaft without stopping until Yugyeom’s cockhead makes him choke a little, too enthusiastic. 

“Mark!” he wheezes, already overwhelmed. The rut is making everything but the sensation of Mark’s mouth cloudy. He wants to fuck into Mark’s hot throat, stuff him and own him this way on top of all the other ways they already belong to each other. His hips cant up of their own accord, working his cock deeper and deeper and Mark just takes it, takes it all, unseen mouth dripping and drooling around the base of him. “Jesus, fuck.”

The wet _pop_ of Mark’s mouth sliding off of his cock is obscene, even through the sheets. He springs out from under the covers with his fuzzy brown ears all perked up and happy, cheeks a sweet strawberry pink, mouth already swollen and covered in spit. Delectable. “Watch your fucking language, kid.”

“Nngh,” he chokes out, eloquent, as Mark slides both of his pretty, slim hands down Yugyeom’s cock, using his own saliva and Yugyeom’s precome to slick the movement. “God.” It’s still dark outside, Yugyeom notices, eyes still sleep-heavy; there’s a bare sliver of pale purple light coming in through the window. “What time is it?”

“Five forty-five,” Mark chirps, far too delighted. One fist closes tight around Yugyeom’s shaft, strokes him clenched and just a little too slow and teasing, just the way Yugyeom likes it, and before he knows it he’s cursing and coming in long, excruciating bursts. As he shakes through it, eyes wrenched shut, he can feel Mark’s mouth descending back down onto him, sucking the rest of his come out of him like his cock is a straw. He only realizes he’s done when Mark is sitting back on his haunches, grinning at him in the darkness.

Yugyeom takes a single long, shaking breath. With it, he gets a whiff of Mark’s day-old cologne, the scent of his toothpaste and a spicy, strangely familiar note that hits in the back of his throat, draws him forward and makes him tackle his boyfriend backwards into the sheets.

He noses into the warm skin of Mark’s neck and shoulder, sniffs and licks and nips at him when he realizes what it is. “You smell like me, hyung.”

“Mmm. Bunnies are pretty susceptible to other people's fuck-me pheremones, Gyeommie.”

Laying here breathing Mark in makes the warm red glaze of the rut settle on top of Yugyeom again, clouds up his mind so the only thing he can focus on is fucking and filling the hot clutch of his mate. “I guess that makes sense,” he grunts in response, grinding against Mark’s thigh, smiling and tail wagging a little when he hears Mark snicker underneath him.

“Yup! Guess you’ll just have to fuck them out of me,” Mark says, spreading his legs around Yugyeom’s hips.

Yugyeom humps eagerly into the crux of Mark’s legs, still in his boxers. “Now that _doesn’t_ make sense.” But far be it from him to argue the point — he's too busy sitting up and dragging Mark into his lap, pulling the thin material between him and Mark's slick hole aside with shaking, needy fingers. 

The scent of him washes over Yugyeom in waves, a mix of them so entwined that Yugyeom can barely parse it; dewy grass and pine, hardwood floor wax and Thai curry, salty sea water and sunshine. It soothes and arouses the dark, deep, growling shadow in Yugyeom’s gut simultaneously, smug with ownership. His mouth waters, heavy with the flavor of him before having had even a single taste.

Mark squirms in his clutches. “Come on.” Impatient. 

Yugyeom yanks his hyung’s thighs up to rest against his chest, aching cock sliding heavenly-perfect into the valley of Mark’s ass, wet and sticky through cotton. Thrusting slow there takes the edge off just enough for Yugyeom to notice Mark’s legs cutting open wider, spreading his cheeks further and sending Yugyeom’s scent receptors into a tizzy. He knows exactly what he’s doing, Yugyeom thinks, before giving in and angling Mark onto his shoulders, nudging past his underwear into him and diving down, down, down.

Usually when Yugyeom fucks him, Mark takes his time to adjust to Yugyeom's substantial size, teasing and relaxing around him slow and lazy without a care in the world, not even if Yugyeom is begging for it. 

This time, the air thick and stinking with their pheromones, Mark seems intent on taking him all at once. The heat of him is sucking and inextricable like quicksand, and he nearly kicks Yugyeom in the head in his eagerness to spread his legs further apart. Thighs akimbo, knees in the crooks of Yugyeom’s elbows, he can feel the nudge of Mark’s heels against his sides, kicking against his back in poking, dull little prods like Yugyeom is a recalcitrant horse and not his feverish, looming mate. They both sigh in relief when the juts of Yugyeom’s hips kiss against Mark’s bottom; it might just be the start, but the satisfaction is bone-deep.

Yugyeom expects to be able to breathe, here. He grinds, fucks into Mark in slow, short thrusts, savoring how well they fit together — how every cheesy thing he ever secretly wanted to think about his mate is true here, that they’re like a glove and hand, like puzzle pieces, two complements of a whole. He’s content filling up the hot sheath of him like they have all the time in the world regardless of his rut, because they do.

But Mark — wriggling, squirming, gasping in shaky half-breaths — has other plans. “Gyeom- _ah_ , baby, fuck me,” he insists, leaning on every syllable as if it’s crucial that he understand. “Fuck me, fuck me.” 

Yugyeom whines, ears flattening into his hair, and complies. Mark’s so, so wet, lush and dripping into what little space is between them, slicking Yugyeom’s cock so that every thrust _squelches._ Underneath him, Mark mewls, pleased.

It feels so good it almost hurts as Yugyeom’s hips pick up speed. He lurches in the half-step before he bottoms out on every stroke, groans coming punched out of his chest when he can remember to breathe at all. The rut makes each miniscule tightening, every little squeeze of Mark’s body underneath him feel like an earthquake, rattling his teeth in his skull, and it makes the way Mark starts trying to wiggle down and stuff himself even fuller at the end of each thrust even more obvious. “I can’t knot you like this,” Yugyeom pants, finally dropping Mark's legs from his shaking arms.

Mark pouts. “I know, puppy.” He rolls his hips around in a little circle anyway, relishing being full up, always so tight and clinging to Yugyeom's cock. "What's even the point?" he asks, bratty and rhetorical like Yugyeom's not prodding him breathless.

"Asshole," Yugyeom laughs. The fever wanes when he's buried in his mate like this, but his biology pricks at the edges of his sanity, his body's patience receding with every second he's not coming.

Mark giggles. "I guess I can make do for now." He lets Yugyeom's grip on him loosen with a rare lack of complaint, feral grin going soft as he sees the sweat already starting to bead on his mate's forehead. "Hot?"

Yugyeom nods, overwhelmed. He's starting to feel a bit like a runaway car, a carriage sliding reckless and veering down the train track. He watches Mark slip away and shrink smaller and smaller in the distance.

"So dramatic." 

Mark's deep, transcendental voice yanks Yugyeom back to reality. His eyes clear to see Mark perched now on elbows and knees, soft, twitching cottontail puffed up as a crown jewel to the pretty picture of his ass in the air, his slim, golden thighs drenched with slick. His ruined boxers are long gone.

He turns to look over his shoulder, mischief and affection sparking from his dark gaze, smile crooked. "Just put it back in if you miss me so much." 

Yugyeom follows direction like he always does, slides home like a — "good doggy," Mark gasps. 

Sludgy, scalding heat plows through Yugyeom at the praise, works him up quick and messy until he's thrusting wildly, fucking Mark harder than he probably ever has, too rough, hands punishingly tight around his slender hips.

But Mark's not complaining. "Ba-by, ba- _by yes,_ oh, _fu_ -uck," he hiccups, voice soaring with delight. He gets so _loud_ on the bumpy way he moans Yugyeom's name that Yugyeom has to take a second, not for the first time, to be grateful for the privacy of Mark's own place for this, so happy to draw these sounds out from each other and revel in them.

He's thankful for his innate rhythm, too; dancing honed it, but it's always useful here when Mark is taking him deep, gasping and breathless. He’s versed in the cadence of Mark’s body; he knows what it means when the avian bones of his back and shoulders flex and shudder under his skin, knows that the flustered flick of his tail betrays how good he feels before a groan or moan could pass from his sweet lips. Yugyeom accommodates him, tilts his hips and moves his mate right where he needs to be for Mark to tighten around him like a vice, rubs his thumb into the downy softness of his tail, against and with and against the grain of gray-brown fur. 

Mark chokes softly around the arousal in his throat and Yugyeom grunts, lost in him. “God, yes Gyeom, just like that.” One arm drops out from underneath him and Yugyeom realizes, belatedly, how Mark’s own cock must be as aching and full as his, in need. 

But the hiss and whine and flex of his triceps gives him a little consolation. “Oh, baby, keep go- _ing._ ” His bunny is nothing if not a self-starter, somehow both an unselfish lover and able to drown himself in pleasure next to Yugyeom every single time. The muscles in his arm flick with frantic activity and his back bows and he clenches around Yugyeom’s length and the sound of his cries as he comes are in perfect tune with the roaring in Yugyeom’s ears. 

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, like the height of his pleasure wasn’t enough. “Don’t stop.”

The force of Yugyeom's screws slaps their skin together, resounding applause that fills the room, crawls into Yugyeom's ear and claws inside of him, egging him on. Then, as he watches in a daze, Mark shifts, slips the thin, pretty fingers of his left hand behind him, down into the cleft of his cheeks to spread them open wide and show Yugyeom the sopping, vivid pink ring of him clutching his cock so tight as he fills it over and over and over and — and —

Yugyeom careens over the edge for the second time, nearly choking on his tongue in the process. Each wave of it feels like it lasts a year, cresting in stinging, satisfied bursts. Mark keens high, contented hums underneath him as Yugyeom spills into him, as he takes every bit of come that Yugyeom pumps inside, fucking back onto Yugyeom’s cock to match him when his pace slows.

When he finally feels wrung all the way out, Yugyeom shudders. His arms are shaky and weak when he leans forward onto Mark, huffing into the space between his shoulder blades, and they both groan when he pulls out.

“Heavy,” Mark complains. “Get off me, mutt.” Yugyeom flops onto the bed instead. He’s squishing his own tail underneath him but can’t be bothered to do anything about it.

They breathe together, quiet for a few moments at the edge of dawn. 

But sooner rather than later, Yugyeom can feel Mark’s eyes on his face. "You can't be done already," Mark chides playfully as Yugyeom recovers flat on his back, winded.

He's not, not really; the rut will probably last at least for the rest of the day if not for 48 hours, but the last few times he had them he went through them alone, with toys and his own hand and an article of clothing with a familiar scent to settle his nerves, to give him a sense of ownership over something. The one time he went through a rut with a girlfriend they spent the days in bed together, true, but she wasn't Mark. 

Mark, whose libido was strong on a bad day and through the roof on a good one, who would make Yugyeom nearly jizz in his pants by sucking on his fingers right before a show, then follow up on blowing him as soon as possible and fucking him raw after for good measure. Rut wasn't ever quite this… exhausting. God, maybe Jackson was right. "I'm tired, hyung! Give me a second."

Mark is quiet enough to give Yugyeom reason to panic. He cracks his eyes open to analyze his boyfriend's face.

It's not good. He's just staring, flat and calculative. His ears are flat on his head. That's a terrible sign. "Don't raise your voice at me."

"I didn't!" Yugyeom insists, whining, probably a little too loudly to be considered not raising his voice. 

"So rude. You're acting like a very bad puppy right now."

It's like a bucket of ice water over Yugyeom's head. "What?" he asks, uneven, upset leaking into his tone without his consent. "I'm not bad! I'm not bad."

"Then be good and stay still."

That? Yugyeom can do that. He sinks further into the mattress, eyelids sliding closed despite himself. The throbbing of his cock wanes for the moment, seeming to need the recovery just as much as he does. He doesn't even spare a second thought to his mate's sudden change of heart, too content and buzzy and comfortable to question it until he can feel Mark's weight shifting around on the bed. The sheets lap underneath Yugyeom like waves as the air shifts and — "oof!" — Mark plants his butt right in Yugyeom's stomach. "Jeez, warn a guy."

Mark is facing away from him though, and doesn't seem to mind his sarcasm if the dark way he laughs is any indication. "Sorry, baby." 

He doesn't sound that sorry. Even if he did, Yugyeom doesn't think he could spare the extra brainpower to notice anything besides the lovely, lithe shadows of his tapered waist, the ladder of notches in the downward trickle of his spine, the sweet, freckled handfuls of his ass and the slow, languorous spill of mixed-up slick and come spilling out of him and onto Yugyeom's belly. 

Yugyeom mouth goes dry. His tender, pulsing cock revives with renewed energy. There’s something about the sight of it, the two of them muddled together, that pulls deep underneath his skin, pricking at the huge, mushy knot of feelings about Mark in his chest — his instincts pull tight against it, wrap claws around it, snarl _mine_.

He licks his lips for some respite, trying not to wriggle and arch as heat simmers under his skin. Trying to be good. “Hyung….”

Mark gives his cock a sudden, rough, unforgiving stroke, knowing just from his tone exactly what he needs. “So sweet. You’re trying so hard, puppy. Good boy.”

Yugyeom whines through his nose, thrusting into the brutal, tight curl of Mark’s fist. The sticky, used skin of his cock will likely feel chafed and sore soon even covered in come and slick and weakly leaking, but all of the pain only registers in a tangled amalgam with the pleasure, tied together so close that there’s barely any distinction between them.

Then, Mark’s shifting. “Needy, needy,” he clucks, voice full of quiet steel. “Why don’t you do something for hyung? Help me clean up?”

And then — then he’s —

Mark’s short, puffy tail sways a little in his line of sight as he hovers a breath away, thighs slid up around Yugyeom’s shoulders. Yugyeom blinks, a camera shutter of surprise, as come and slick drip onto his chin. 

“Mark,” Yugyeom wheezes, mouth falling open, “fuck.”

He takes the offering. 

Yugyeom licks hungrily against his ass, tongue sliding with ease between Mark’s fingertips where he’s holding himself open, lapping gently at his used hole. Their intermingled scents are so strong here, solid and thick and the taste is — Yugyeom moans against Mark’s bottom — it’s filthy and pungent and washes over him like every stinking, pounding moment of desire they’ve experienced together.

Mark’s voice is a distant, pleased trill over the thumping of Yugyeom’s heartbeat in his ears. “Mmm, baby. Do you like it?”

“I like it,” Yugyeom murmurs, sticky between broad strokes of his tongue. The bitter saltiness of his own come in his mouth should give him pause but it doesn’t; the meld of it together with Mark’s cloying, fragrant slick an obscene, savory flavor that Yugyeom can’t get enough of. He reaches up, shoos Mark’s hand away, splits him further with his thumbs and allows himself the feast.

“Good puppy, Yugyeom. Fucked me so good. Now you get your treat.”

Distantly, Yugyeom hears Mark spitting into his hand, feels him lean forward with a hand on Yugyeom’s belly. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts — oh, but it feels so _good_ — when Mark takes him in hand again, when he cranes down to suck and lave his plush lips soft around the raw head of his cock while Yugyeom licks him clean. 

They don’t rush through this. This time, Yugyeom comes at the crest of a low, slippery wave, eyes rolling back, oversensitive and owned and owning. He squeezes Mark’s ass in trembling hands as he spills into Mark’s mouth and sinks into the way he giggles around him in return.

Yugyeom fights off the exhaustion creeping into his bones, continuing to eat Mark out until his thighs start twitching, until Yugyeom’s jaw starts cramping up and Mark swivels around on top of him, pressing him into the mattress to ply him with kisses.

He tastes like Yugyeom’s come, like his own scent and the sweet mixture of them both, panting and grinning and overwhelmingly tender. He kisses Yugyeom like it’s their first time — like he wants to prove with every pass of his lips just how treasured he is — stroking his cheeks with adoring, sticky fingers; lingering between long, gentle sweeps of tongue just staring down at Yugyeom until he flushes under the attention; caressing him slowly and thoroughly until he feels close to dozing off.

“Okay. Up we go, sweetheart.” Mark props Yugyeom up against the headboard, pillows pushed behind him to cushion his sore back, and reaches over to the bedside table for a sweating glass of water. Yugyeom hadn’t even noticed it was there. He hadn’t been able to, earlier.

“Drink the whole thing.”

Yugyeom does as he’s told, greedy and gulping and ignorant of the way some of it spills down his chin, his neck, into the hollows of his collarbones. It doesn’t make the fever go away but it cools the fire in his throat.

Until he looks up and sees the blown-out, distracted blacks of Mark’s eyes tracing down his throat, dropping down between his legs. He catches Yugyeom’s eye and smirks, absolutely unrepentant.

Yugyeom sighs, chin dropping to his chest. His red, hard dick glares up at him. “Fuck, alright, okay, get over here.”

Mark doesn’t waste any time. The soft heat of him sinking down around Yugyeom’s cock is the only thing that doesn’t hurt anymore.

“Jackson hyung warned me,” Yugyeom gasps, feeling a cramp coming on in his lower back as he thrusts up weakly into Mark. “Ah—about this.”

Mark’s eyes are dark and amused. He doesn’t stop the quick, solid pace of fucking down onto Yugyeom’s lap, riding him. His hands tighten on Yugyeom’s shoulders. “Yeah? What did he say?”

Yugyeom groans as the ache grows. “He just...said I would need painkillers. I didn’t believe him.”

Mark smiles, pretty pink lips and tiger’s maw of sharp teeth. “Do you believe him now?”

Yugyeom gulps. “I think so,” he says faintly, terrified at the way Mark’s smile widens further.

It’s the last thing he sees before Mark tightens around him, sudden and yanking a dry, painful orgasm out of Yugyeom that leaves him at the edge of blacking out. As his head swims, Mark leans in close to him, warm lips against his ear, and scrapes teeth against the lobe in a dry threat that makes Yugyeom shiver, overwhelmed.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> come b my fwiend uwu owo hehe ♥ on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sunnyseunie) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/sunnyseunie)


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